


The Grasslander Squire

by Suzume



Category: Suikoden II
Genre: Drabble Sequence, Friendship, Gen, Illustrated, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4529871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzume/pseuds/Suzume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miklotov and Camus in their youth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Grasslander Squire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lady_Harken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Harken/gifts).



 

*****

         Grasslanders passed through Matilda all the time for the purpose of trade and inevitably some of them chose to stay for one reason or another. So it wasn't like Miklotov had never seen or spoken to any of them before. Mostly Chishans and Karayans came this far, but he was vaguely aware that there were other tribes in the region. ...There were Ducks! His baby sister had been hung up on the Ducks for a while.

         Most of the Grasslanders lived in a different district of the city than Miklotov's family.

         But as a squire he was quartered with one.

*****

         Two squires in a tiny room. By the end of the day after tending to all their duties and training they were usually exhausted and fell fast asleep. And despite all that they were required to do, Miklotov still liked to rise even earlier and cram extra practice into his day.

         Camus didn't know where he found the energy. He lay on his bed, sore even when he didn't move a muscle. "Miklotov, are you awake?"

         "Yeah..."

         "You like training really early in the morning?"

         "The dawn's kind of nice, I guess."

         "You wouldn't mind if I trained too?"

         "No."

*****

         In uniform you'd never know Camus wasn't Matilda born and bred, but when he took time off at the home of his aunt and uncle (the people he'd come to Matilda with while the rest of his family remained in and near Camaro) he'd come back smelling like curry and cloves. ...Miklotov kind of wanted to see that flat; to eat whatever Camus was eating, but he didn't know how to ask.

         He invited Camus over to have lunch with his own family. His sister took to his friend immediately.

         Camus didn't return the invitation. Maybe Grassland manners were different.

*****

_"-Way down yonder in the grassy valley,_

_Fall to slumbering under the sun_

_My boots and cap fallen aside_

_With you, with you, my love-"_

 

         Did Camus know they could hear him singing through the wooden kitchen door? Miklotov wasn't sure whether or not he should say something. He was scrubbing the floor outside while Camus worked within.

         The Red Knight Captain Camus served, Sir Baldrick, approached along the castle hall. "That's my squire, hmm? Always with a tune in his heart. And you're Grimmel's squire, right, lad?"

         "Yes, sir," Miklotov nodded.

         "Grow good friendships while we're still at peace," Sir Baldrick encouraged him, "Even if it's true that you never really know a man until you've gone together to war, why have to build the groundwork of trust up from nowhere." The knight leaned a bit against the wall and smiled. "My squire likes you, lad. Whenever any talk of other cadets comes up, he always mentions you."

         Miklotov bit his lip and hoped he wasn't blushing. He had no idea that Camus talked about him. "Ah, thank you, sir," he muttered, "I, um, I like him too."

         "Let's fight back then," he laughed, "And sing him Matilda's March!"

*****

         Miklotov saw the inside of Camus' family's dwelling on the second Midsummer Day of their acquaintance. Every square inch of floor space was covered in rugs. There was a loom in one corner of the main room- the main tool of his aunt's industry.

         Camus' uncle had an enormous beard. He served them water with lime. There were portraits on the wall featuring mainly bearded men and elaborate heraldry that Miklotov couldn't decipher.

         "I'm from a family of knights," Camus explained, "But only one per branch per generation."

         "You have a brother," Miklotov guessed what was left hanging unspoken there.

*****

         Last years' squires had either grown accustomed to their workload or decided the knighthood might not be for them. Not unilaterally exhausted, some nights Camus and Miklotov stayed up talking. They couldn't have been the only roommates who did it, but Squiremaster Heinrich singled them out.

         "The beds aren't bolted down," Camus observed. He pulled his out a little, then moved to the other side to push.

         "What are you-"

         "If we move them closer together, we can whisper," Camus explained.

         "Oh!" his friend jumped up to join him, moving his own bed around to complete their endeavor, "Good idea!"

 *****

                  "I wanna best friend," Luceen whined, "Best friend like Camus."

         "I'm sure you'll have plenty of good friends when you're bigger," Miklotov told her, "You'll meet more boys and girls when you start primary school. I met most of my friends then."

         "But you had to be this old to meet Camus!"

         "Well, Camus didn't live in Matilda when he was that young," he tried to explain for his sister. "He was in the Grasslands."

         "But. But he's gonna stay here," she suddenly worried.

         "Of course," Miklotov smiled, "He'll be a Matilda Knight!"

         "Like you," she smiled back, "Best friends."

*****

         The squiremaster turned the time-keeping glass over and over. Five minutes became ten became fifteen. Miklotov versus Camus, the duel went on and on. They had learned well in their squirehood and the gentle rivalry of a deep friendship spurred them on.

         "They've both more than proved they deserve to move onto their apprentice knighthood period," Sir Baldrick murmured to the squiremaster, "Perhaps you should interrupt."

         "No, no," Sir Gaston of the White Knights countered, "I want to see how long they go."

         The dual went on to record length as their fellow knighthood youths and masters looked on, concluding with one last well chosen blow before both young men, holding on just long enough for the official signal of approval, crumpled into the dust, leaning against one another, covered in stains and bruises and sweat.

         "Lu-Luceen's going to be disappointed she couldn't have been here to see that," Camus said.

         "Knights only," Miklotov answered, facing down, his forehead on Camus' shoulder, "It's proper protocol. She'll have to wait for the rematch at an exposition match for the Harvest Fair."

         "Oh," Camus laughed, "So you've already decided there's going to be a rematch."

         "Many, probably."

         "What funny knights we'll be..."

*****


End file.
